House of Ashes [Complete]

52. Unveiled | نقاب اٹھانا

Kindly, Vote and Comment <3

___________

I am so proud of the warrior I've created from the ashes that were meant to bury me - Najwa Zebian

They say forgiveness brings your heart at peace. But that's not always the case. Some people do you so brutally that there is left no reason for you to so much as even mull over the thought of getting them rid of the guilt they're dwelling in. Not forgiving them makes them suffer in their guilt and that's exactly what they deserve.

And Safa Hayat didn't care if she came off as cold hearted for this, but there was no way she was going to forgive Ameen Hashmi. She had suffered enough at his hands. And now the tables had turned. It was his turn this time. The only difference being the similar cause – him. He had done this to himself and she had no complaints, whatsoever, for letting him go through the ramifications. It was his sin, and he had to deal with the consequence. Come what may!

Engrossed in her thoughts, she was unpacking her bag and even though Asmara had offered to do it for her, she had declined saying she needed something to keep herself busy.

But what did she know that from now on the focus of her entire being had become one person only. And no matter how much she tried evading him, his thoughts would always come back, crashing on her. Just like right now, when amidst the unpacking, her eyes settled on the particular article of clothing.

Hi jacket.

Her hands froze midway and with the rage that resided on her face and goosebumps that took over her entire body, her breaths strangled in her throat. With slightly quavering hands, she retrieved that black fabric out of the bag and the familiar scent of musk and mint that hit her engulfed her with nostalgia.

When he had wrapped that jacket around her frame.

She all too well remembered that feeling. The feeling that had comforted her and assured her she wasn't alone. That someone out there felt her pain and understood it.

That man had always managed to make her feel safe without even wording anything out. That day in the cold hospital hallway when he had held his hand up to assuage her, but stopped midway because he knew it would make her uncomfortable, so he just sat there in silence, comforting her with just his mere presence.

But now, everything had gone down the drain. None of that mattered anymore. He had betrayed her and that was it. No amount of him being nice would ever be able to reverse that because it was all part of his plan...she thought.

Pulling the dupatta back on her head and draping the cashmere around herself, she pulled her journal out from the other pocket - the journal that held all her dark secret. It was time to destroy it along with him, too.

Stomping out of the room, she rushed towards the kitchen. Grabbing the bottle of kerosene oil and match stick, she ambled out of the annex with fury taking ahold of her, her face crimson and nostrils flared in sheer anger and hurt.

On reaching the destination, she finally came to a halt. With the black canvas that spread out as far as the gaze could reach and quietness that pervaded the surrounded, that silver ball was nowhere to be seen tonight. Just like her life.

Pitch black with no light. No silver lining, whatsoever.

Gathering the sticks, she threw some kerosene oil on them. Her hands shivered erratically as she scratched the match stick on the side of the box. She attempted once again and this time the box fell from her hands. A harsh groan left her mouth as she bent down and picked it up again. Two more attempts and she was able to light the fire.